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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24609208">Cement Truck</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashcangimmick/pseuds/trashcangimmick'>trashcangimmick</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Stranger Things (TV 2016)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Billy is Not Considerate, Established Relationship, Fluff, Future Fic, M/M, Steve is long suffering</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 08:55:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,464</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24609208</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashcangimmick/pseuds/trashcangimmick</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Billy adopts a tortoise.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>259</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>harringrove for BLM</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Cement Truck</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyWritingCabin/gifts">MyWritingCabin</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Cement Truck. Really?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. It’s a great name for tortoise.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m honestly still kinda stuck on where you even got a tortoise, Billy.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It was in the classifieds.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So you just. Took our car. And went to pick up a 200lb tortoise. Without like. Mentioning it.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“C’mon, Stevie. He’s like, 100lbs max.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Steve’s standing in the kitchen, staring at the rotund tank of a reptile currently occupying at least two square feet of rose-patterned linoleum. Billy’s sitting on the floor next to it, holding out a head of lettuce. The tortoise takes periodic bites. Billy’s petting the marbled brown and black shell. It’s not perfectly smooth. Little sections are raised, in small domes. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You said you wanted a pet.” Billy turns his big blue eyes towards Steve, oh so innocent. He’s got his hair pulled back in a loose ponytail. He’s wearing his old basketball jersey and a pair of cropped jean shorts. It’s definitely calculated to hit all of Steve’s weak points. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I meant a dog. Or a cat.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“This is better. I mean, look at him. He’s so fucking cool.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you even know how to take care of it?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Billy points to the kitchen table. There’s a stack of books and a receipt from the Evergreen Park public library. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Tortoise Care. A Natural History of Tortoises. Raising Reptiles. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m gonna set him up in the yard this weekend.” Billy says brightly. “Just gotta go to Home Depot to get stuff for an enclosure. He’ll have to stay inside in the winter, but it’s totally nice enough right now.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Steve’s stomach is twisting with an amorphous sort of anxiety. He didn’t walk in the door today expecting to be met with a new slew of considerations and responsibilities. He doesn’t do well with surprises, especially when they’re huge changes. He and Billy have been dating for seven years, living in this house for three, and only recently started talking about the possibility of a pet. Steve likes to have a plan. He likes to know that everything is ready, and he’s prepared for anything that could go wrong. He knows it’s a little Extra. Just, after all the fucked up shit that happened in Hawkins. All those people dying. Being responsible for the lives of a lot of children?  It’s like. It’s just better if there’s a plan.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Billy, on the other hand, is incredibly impulsive. Once he gets an idea in his head, there’s no disabusing him of it. Steve gets dragged along for the ride. Sometimes it results in good things, like moving to the suburbs of Chicago and buying the first house they looked at (turned out to be a great house that Steve loves dearly). Other times, it results in situations like this. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Steve wraps his arms around himself tight. She’s shifting from one foot to the other. Can’t help it. He can feel his heart beating in his throat. Do tortoises bite? Is it going to piss and shit all over the floor? If it lives outside is it gonna get attacked by other animals? Is it even legal to own a tortoise?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m gonna take a walk.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Baby, you just got home...”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Steve’s already turned around and back out the door before Billy can finish. He lights a cigarette on the porch. He doesn’t know where he’s going. He just starts walking.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He’s not even halfway down the street before Billy catches up with him. It’s a little iffy with public PDA’s. But their fingers brush together gently.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey. I’m sorry. I tried to call you at work, but you were at lunch.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And the tortoise couldn’t wait another day?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“OK. So. I’d talked to the dude a couple days ago and I was gonna bring it up with you. But then he called me back this morning and said he was packing up his truck to move. Like leaving the city ASAP. He needed the tortoise to go somewhere. Apparently no animal shelters around here wanted to take it? He was just gonna leave the little guy in his yard.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not </span>
  <em>
    <span>little</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Billy.” Steve takes a long drag. Exhales. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We can try to find somewhere else to take him. I’ll start looking right away. We’ll just take care of him a couple days till he finds a different home.” Billy’s talking way too fast. The way he does when he’s trying to steamroll somebody.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s always a coin toss as to whether Steve’s protests to insane ideas will be met with over-apologetic platitudes or outright hostility. The outcome doesn’t change. The apologies don’t mean anything. Billy has every intention of keeping the tortoise. It’s the thought that counts, or something like that.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>This is what Steve signed up for when he and Billy moved into a trailer together two days after graduation. It’s what he signed up for when Billy got down on one knee and they exchanged identical class rings. They’ve got shared bank accounts. A mortgage. Sometimes Billy talks about adopting a kid. Hell. Someday Steve might just come home to find that Billy has signed the paperwork to foster some wayward teenager. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Steve will be scared, like he’s always been scared where Billy is concerned. And then, it’s likely things will turn out better than he could have imagined.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I am not cleaning a tortoise litter box. I’m not feeding it. I’m not taking it on walks and it absolutely cannot come up on any furniture.” Steve knows it amounts to wrapping himself in a white flag.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Billy’s smile is so pretty though.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Totally. You don’t have to do anything. You don’t have to interact with him at all if you don’t wanna. Like I said, I’ll set him up outside and everything.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You owe me.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Billy swats Steve’s ass. “I’ll make it plenty worth your while, sweetheart.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I also </span>
  <em>
    <span>refuse</span>
  </em>
  <span> to ever fuck in the same room as that thing. It does not come into the bedroom at all.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh my god, Stevie,” Billy chuckles.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m serious.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Billy just keeps giggling. Before too long, they turn around and head home. Billy makes dinner while Steve studiously avoids the kitchen. The tortoise encroaches into the living room. Like it </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows</span>
  </em>
  <span> Steve’s less than happy with the new arrangement. It just stands there. Staring at him with beady little eyes. It’s weird.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s looking at me.” Steve calls to the kitchen after pulling his legs up onto the couch.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Wanna give him some spinach? He likes it a lot.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Steve doesn’t really want to. But Billy appears after a few moments with a bag of mixed greens which he presses into Steve’s hands with a kiss on the forehead. He’s wearing his usual apron, the one that says </span>
  <em>
    <span>Kiss the Cook</span>
  </em>
  <span> in the same font as the band Kiss. He reeks of onions. Then he’s back in the kitchen. The tortoise is crawling towards the couch with purpose.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Steve sighs and tears the bag open. He fishes out a few leaves of spinach and holds them out, careful to only grasp them with the very tips of his finger tips. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Cement Truck</span>
  </em>
  <span> extends his strange little turtle neck and chomps down. He chews the leaves and waits expectantly for another helping, which Steve provides.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Cement Truck puts away a considerable amount of foliage before losing interest and wandering off. Billy brings Steve a bowl of something delicious, full of tomatoes and garlic. They eat on the couch together. Staring at Cement Truck--who seems to be investigating the plastic blinds that cover the glass doors that lead to the back yard.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I feel like I’m going to trip over that thing in the middle of the night.” Steve sighs, resting his head on Billy’s shoulder.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ll be fine. And I’ll come running if I hear you scream.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He kisses Steve on the temple. Just kind of nuzzles into his hair. It’s gay. Steve grabs both of their mostly empty bowls and sets them on the coffee table. He swings a leg over Billy’s thighs and settles into his lap. He dips down and lets the lips brush together. Soft and sweet, the way it only is if he starts it. Billy, of course, grabs his ass, and groans and tries to deepen it. Steve pulls away until Billy lets him have control again.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re an asshole,” Steve murmurs as his blood starts to feel warmer. Maybe he’ll let Billy carry him off to bed soon. It’s still pretty early in the evening. But Steve could definitely use a little stress relief.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Mmm. Love you too, babe.” Billy nips at Steve’s lower lip. Smiling with half lidded eyes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>There’s an odd crunch as Cement Truck bites into one of the hanging plastic slats of the blinds. Steve can’t help laughing into Billy’s mouth. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Check out <a href="https://harringrovetrashh.tumblr.com/post/619750186613440512/im-back-again-i-know-youre-probably-sick-of-me">Harringrove for BLM.</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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